Poem From Aaron Espy
Dear Guy Sr.,
It is extremely hard to write a poem for someone Iíve never met. Although your memories of your son Guy Jr. gave me some insight into his life, I still know very little about him or you. I was going to wait to write a poem for you until later when I had gotten to know you and your son better, but I started writing and this is what came about.
If you donít like traditional poems like this (some people call it greeting card verse), I can try writing something in free verse. (Thatís where the poem doesnít rhyme). Youíll notice I used a fictious station nine because I donít know where youíre stationed in Tulsa, or even if you ride an engine or ladder. The poemís beginning is based on the assumption that you are an engine company officer.
If you donít like the poem, donít feel bad about it, or feel like you have to tell me you like it. Iíve written some truly good poems, and some that belong in the trash can, and many that fall in between. The danger in writing a poem for someone so special to someone else, like Guy Jr. is to you, is that the poem will not be a good one. Then on top of all the pain you carry, now you have someone whoís made a clumsy attempt to say something nice about your son and failed miserably.
If you like the poem, let me know. If you donít, itís okay to let me know that too. I can try something different if youíd like, or we can just skip it all together. In any case, donít be a stranger to my internet address. If you need someone to talk to, send me an email. I donít know your pain firsthand, but it sounds like we share a common faith and a common brotherhood in the fire service.
Hang in there, brother
Green Grass Memory
A false alarm, weíre headed home,
You were a perfect gift from God,
I wish that He could tell me why
(Firehouse poetry for Guy Rutherford, Sr.
Most recent revision was July 31, 1996
Copyright & copy; Guy Ruther4d,1996